[Bothari's bass rumble trails off as he thinks it over. Turns it this way and that, examining all of the sides of it. He knew Miles. Knew Miles. Saw him from birth on, was as much the man who raised him as the man who came home two hours a day.
Saw Miles more than he saw Elena (Good. Good, that was proper), the girl who was married off, who wasn't his anymore. She was too beautiful, too good for the likes of him anyway.
Another vision settles in, a woman in hillfolk clothes, grey eyes that see into you and lustrous red hair. Washed his hands and feet with blood and made him clean again. The roll of a head, the cut in her thigh...
A wife. Having a son would mean having a wife.
The little pieces slotted in, taking form, taking the shapes of it's own reality, almost palatable in how much he wanted that. Even if it wasn't real, it could be, for a little while.]
Long as it's a good family. [It was laid out almost as a term of surrender.]
no subject
[Bothari's bass rumble trails off as he thinks it over. Turns it this way and that, examining all of the sides of it. He knew Miles. Knew Miles. Saw him from birth on, was as much the man who raised him as the man who came home two hours a day.
Saw Miles more than he saw Elena (Good. Good, that was proper), the girl who was married off, who wasn't his anymore. She was too beautiful, too good for the likes of him anyway.
Another vision settles in, a woman in hillfolk clothes, grey eyes that see into you and lustrous red hair. Washed his hands and feet with blood and made him clean again. The roll of a head, the cut in her thigh...
A wife. Having a son would mean having a wife.
The little pieces slotted in, taking form, taking the shapes of it's own reality, almost palatable in how much he wanted that. Even if it wasn't real, it could be, for a little while.]
Long as it's a good family. [It was laid out almost as a term of surrender.]